It is not just important, but essential to look back occasionally to see where you’ve been and how far you’ve come. I suppose the end of summer automatically conditions me to gear up for school and the last part of the year. I, myself, am decades past going to school, but having raised three children, the tradition of back to school continued until now. Earlier in the year Baby Bub decided (mid-semester) that she wasn’t going to continue with college. Therefore, there is no last minute registering for classes, purchasing of school supplies, or buying clothes. I have a lot of time to and for myself these days as opposed to taking or making time for myself. Even though it feels odd, it’s a good time to look back. Two things made this topic come to mind for me. I’ve been blogging for a month now and next week I will take over a service commitment on Sunday morning.

It’s amusing to look back a little over a month ago and remember the fear, anxiety and insecurity I felt in anticipation of launching this site. Besides the technical aspect, of which I am still limited, I had HUGE fear about the writing itself. What would I write about? Would anyone read it? Would anyone understand it or relate? WILL THEY LIKE IT? Would I be able to keep up with the commitment to myself to post three times a week? I went back and read all eleven of them. This one will be #12, three posts a week for four weeks. So that question is answered. I’ve had positive feedback from enough friends and a few acquaintances to know I’m on the right track. As for what will I write about… well it says right at the top of this page underneath the heading- a journey home to my heart, my true self. The cool part about that is, it’ll be a journey with rises, falls, twists, turns, triumphs, stumbles, joys, pain, laughter, and love. What’s truly great about this is the gift I’m receiving that I didn’t anticipate. The clarity and presence I feel in my life! Trust me it’s not all a bed of roses, but I am fully engaged and present for  it. No checking out of life, avoiding it or hiding from it with too much television, reading romance novels and emotional overeating! I’m rolling with the good, bad, the frustrating, the monotonous, the ugly and the divine. How about that!

The service commitment I am taking over this coming Sunday morning is one I held six years ago. It’s a one-year weekly commitment to show up and facilitate for a 12 step meeting that is my home group. Six years ago I was pretty much railroaded into the commitment at a time in my life when I was having a hard time showing up and thought I was hiding in plain sight. The last thing I wanted to do was be front and center in front of a bunch of people, even people that are family to me, my spiritual kin. It was incredibly uncomfortable, irritating and scary at first. I was at my heaviest weight and very insecure about my appearance, not to mention unsure of my spiritual fitness to be of service to this community of spiritual kin that gently, firmly, and honestly loved me until I learned to love myself. They became the mirror I had always avoided at all costs. A mirror that encouraged, supported, cheered and appreciated that which I failed to recognize on my own. I bloomed in the course of that one-year commitment and while I was definitely of service to the group, they were far more of service to me. To this day, when others tell me how much they appreciate my message or share, I give all the credit to my spiritual kin and AA. My light is their light shining with God’s sunshine. I keep what I have by giving away what was so freely and lovingly given to me.

For once I’m looking ahead without fear but in anticipation to what additional blogging will bring to my life and just how much more spiritual growth I will gain from being of service to my community. It’s a good place to be and It’s been epic so far.

I have an old friend of more than 25 years who was fond of saying, ” Now don’t let yo mouth write a check yo ASS can’t cash!” 

Thus, I sit here late night blogging at my computer desk after just putting freshly washed sheets on my bed. After mopping my dining room/living room and finally putting down my new cranberry area rug to “pull the dining room decor together”. My hands and the room smells like Fabuloso with a faint whiff of Gain detergent. I’m so friggin exhausted right now that I hope this blog has a point when I post it tomorrow morning because this is all I got.

Let’s back it up a few weeks so some of this will make sense. My Avon lady, Linda, works at my job and I was on my way to go pay her for an order she’d delivered earlier. I was also going on break so my girlfriend, Karina asked me to grab a Pampered Chef catalog from Linda to bring back to her. It seems my Avon lady was having a Pampered Chef party. I got to her desk, paid her and remembered the catalog. I sat down in the break room and started thumbing through it, all the while thinking to myself, Pampered Chef is way too expensive for me to buy. Especially after I’d just moved into my new place last month. As I went through that damn catalog, I was surprised to realize I already had A LOT of their smaller, economical and extremely useful products. Karina came up to the break room with another friend, Lydia,  so I relinquished the catalog to her. We started discussing all the great items in the catalog, which I said were just too rich for my blood currently. Lydia said she wanted to order a lot of stuff. Then Karina suggested that I book a Pampered Chef party so I could get steep discounts and some free products. Lydia chimed in right away to say, she would hold off ordering from Linda if I was going to book a party. I hemmed, I hawed, I hedged, totally noncommittal with no intentions of booking a PC party! Karina kept saying I could pass a catalog around at work AND have a home party for my friends where I lived… or maybe that was me musing out loud, I can’t remember. All I know is the idea had taken root and was slowing blooming in my mind. We trooped back down to our department where we all sit near each other. Karina’s cubicle mates were curious about the Pampered Chef catalog. They asked who was having the party and she told them Linda was, but Tammi was thinking of booking a party so they may want to order from me. REALLY??? I swear I’d been noncommittal, I swear! So then there was office “discussion” with everyone encouraging me. My cubicle mate, Kristen, used to sell it and she said she needed to replace her old ice cream scooper and could place an order from my party because they were the best. I caved and sent Linda an email asking her to put me in touch with her consultant. Later that afternoon I was texting with the Pampered Chef consultant. Yes, she was willing to come to my town (which is quite a ways away) to do an in-home party and cooking demonstration. A date was locked in, she emailed me a link with instructions and I got two extra catalogs from Linda to pass around the office…. In case you haven’t figured it out, THIS IS THE CHECK my mouth wrote. I passed the catalog to my co-workers at work and I sent out a message in a closed women’s Facebook page for the town where I live. The response was positive and favorable at work and on Facebook!

I must interject to say this was two weeks ago. My new apartment still was not completely decorated or put together, but I blithely assumed, cavalierly planned to get all that done the weekend before the party. No problem, right? HA! You guys read my blog a couple of weeks ago “The Best Laid Plans”… It’s now 1:30 am and my bedroom is a moderate disaster although the public rooms are finished. Baby Bub’s room requires heavy equipment and therefore, will be barricaded for the party. No joke.

My consultant will arrive at 4:30 this afternoon to set up a few “workstations” because she will be having my party guests cooking the main dish, Lemon Pepper Artichoke Pasta, and the dessert, Angel Food Strawberry Trifle. My job was to buy all the ingredients and I did after work yesterday. I still often wonder, who the hell hijacked my life. Who is this popular, beloved social butterfly that is willing to keep extending herself, stretching her boundaries, obliterating her comfort zones? For fucks sake man, I’m BLOGGING about my LIFE, and I don’t remember when I’ve ever felt more alive or completely present! As exhausted as I am, though recently fortified with some leftover spaghetti sauce with spaghetti squash, I’m not really panicking over the fact that I will have 8-10 friends in my house for a party. That’s a conservative estimate, the number of actual guests may be higher. The catalog order total from work is so high that I think I might be my Pampered Chef consultant’s new best friend. She makes a point, repeatedly, when we text or email each other to tell me how amazed she is by me. Hopefully combined with my home party orders I will be looking at some serious free product and steep discounts!

Maybe my ass isn’t so desperate about cashing this particular “check”. I mean, it won’t go off exactly as I planned, but what the fuck ever does. I’m starting to think the real price of cashing this check is opening my home and my life to so many, who have loved and supported me all along. I never, ever used to want anyone to see where I lived or how I lived. I was so insecure and terrified, certain I would be found lacking or wanting in everyone’s eyes. The truth is I judged myself so very harshly. What I love about this blogging process is when I start writing on a topic or subject, what it ends up being is usually something deeper and different from what it started as. Perhaps it wasn’t my mouth writing that check after all, but my Higher Self. The Divine within knowing that I no longer judge myself the way I used to and understanding that my friends never did or would.

Strength: the state or quality of being physically or mentally strong. 2. the ability to withstand or exert great force, stress, or pressure. 3. something that is regarded as being beneficial or a source of power: their chief strength is technology.      

I needed to look up the word strength and felt compelled to copy & paste the definition for the purposes of this “requested” blog topic because when I started thinking about strength, my mind went in a couple of different directions. In the 12 step rooms, when asked to share in a meeting or one on one, it’s sometimes called sharing our experience, strength and hope. The phrase “strength of character” rolled through my brain as well. There is also a song very special to my heart called ‘Strength, Courage, and Wisdom’ by India Arie with a phenomenal message.

I’ve been considered strong by many friends and family. I don’t always feel like it, but I know it to be true at this point in my life.  What I know for sure is my strength was borne of crawling, kicking and screaming, out of a victim mentality. It was also borne of being the adult single parent in a family of four. The one who had to learn to be responsible whether I wanted to or not. The one who had to stand up for my children, teach them to stand up for themselves and model how to do it. I almost have to squint to try and recall the grown up girl-child looking for someone to take care of me, who became a  young woman-child who was looking for someone to save me and finally developed into a woman who learned I could take care of and save myself through the grace of a Higher Power (God)  and with the help of trusted friends, family and mentors to show me the way.

I was really very good at my victim role as a girl-child. My weapons of manipulation were artful self-pity, tearful breakdowns and at times subtly guilting others for having it better than me… you know the kind, where I talked about how broke I was, how rough I had it, or pointed out how great it must be that they are doing so well until a friend or family member stepped in to give me money or helped me with my solutions more than I did. I attracted and collected caretakers, codependents and enablers of the well-meaning, dysfunctional and/or controlling variety. I slowly, oh so slowly, grew tired of having to get others to rescue me and I realized I could save myself. I grew stronger for it, but not entirely certain I was capable of taking care of myself and my children as a young woman-child. The young woman-child fantasized about a man, a winning lotto ticket, and in one misguided instance, a woman swooping in to take care of me and mine. None of those fantasies became actual viable solutions.

This was the time in my mid-to-late 20’s, when I was separated from my then husband, going out to clubs, living out my “hoochie” days but still   “messing” around with him. Hanging on to an idea of marriage and family that never really was which I couldn’t let go of. Until I became pregnant with our third and final child. Yes, my estranged husband was the father. We already had two young boys aged 7 and 5. I instinctively knew I was carrying a girl. I just knew it and I was right. When I gave birth to my daughter at the age of 28, I understood a few things that I was either in denial about or just flat out ignored. Children learn more from example than what you tell or even teach them. I’d done a piss poor job of it until then. I needed to get my act together for this female soul that had chosen me as her mother and for my young princes as well. It was my children who were the catalysts for my personal growth, my spiritual expansion and mental strengthening. My progress at times over the years felt non-existent. Yet as new challenges and different issues arose, I began to see it in myself. I also began to understand that each new strength and accomplishment was a bridge for the next level in life, come what may.

There were, and still are, many guides, guardian angels and gifts wrapped in shit to show me, carry me and teach me the state or quality of being physically and mentally strong. The graces and mercies of my Higher Power, whom I choose to call God taught or forced me to develop the ability to withstand or exert great force, stress or pressure when life called for it. Lastly, I’m learning to NOT hide my light, my strength, “under a bushel” because it’s something that is regarded as being beneficial or a source of power.

“Showing up is 80% of life,” – Woody Allen

I came across this quote for the first time several years ago and it struck a chord deep inside me. It resonated because I’ve struggled greatly with showing up for my life. As a consequence, I struggled with showing up for the lives of others when they counted on me for them or they wanted me to be with them. My unwillingness to leave the house came from a deep fear of life and an even deeper insecurity about myself. I can’t even pinpoint or remember exactly when or where I became so cripplingly afraid of life. But I was.

I’d do all kinds of preparation for something but not show up for the actual event. Once, back when I was attempting to go to college, I went through a very involved application and interview process with a law firm in the Bankers Hill section of San Diego. I got the job and they even gave me split shifts to work around my school schedule. It was for a pretty decent hourly wage at that time too. But I never showed up for the first day of work. Just didn’t go. I was too afraid I wouldn’t be able to live up to the opportunity. Another time I missed a whole semester of school (San Diego City College) because I was too paralyzed by fear, insecurity and lack of confidence to walk out the door on the first day of school. I remember holding my son, Charles, who was 2 or 3 years old I think and sobbing in my front hallway because I couldn’t get out the door. I slid down the wall just sobbing and holding him. I just couldn’t face school, class, expectations. I had to call the babysitter I had lined up and paid for by social services to tell her I wasn’t coming to drop off my son and I wasn’t going to school this semester after all. I’d registered for classes and everything. Both of these instances occurred when I was in my early 20’s and still married. Don’t even get me started on the ways that I mentally “checked out” of my marriage, while simultaneously emotionally and socially clinging to a young husband who was silently wondering what the hell happened to the outgoing, smart social butterfly he fell for.

This was a running theme throughout my developing adulthood. I missed a dear friend’s wedding after saying I’d attend, and we were close friends. These were just the physical “no shows”. The years of not showing up emotionally or mentally, because there was no true spirituality in my life then. It was painful, this debilitating insecurity and crippling fear that I hid behind, pretending to be a “homebody” that didn’t like socializing. To survive I’d find a small group of friends or one single friend that I could glom onto, taking on their mannerisms, likes and dislikes for an identity. The truth is I lacked so much confidence in myself that I didn’t know how to show up for myself, let alone others. I wasn’t capable of believing deep down that people wanted me around because I didn’t really want to be around myself. Even when I did show up, I got really good at hiding in plain sight.

So what happened? I stopped running from myself and turned to God. I learned that God truly does work through other people if you let Him. It turns out I wasn’t as good at hiding in plain sight as I thought. Wonderfully patient friends that I think of as spiritual kin gently pointed out this delusional social camouflage of mine and lovingly placed me in situations where I had to be “seen”. Places where I had to be front and center. They encouraged me as I continued to show up in so many ways. They told me over and over how beautiful I was, how much my presence was appreciated and how I was an important part of the group. I began to feel how amazing it was to be present for God, myself, and others in the smallest of ways. This gave me courage and confidence to show up in bigger ways like volunteering to be of service to my community, stepping up to be with a friend when he was ready to honor his mother’s last wishes by spreading her ashes in the ocean and just simply reaching out to others in distress. As I continued to emerge, I began to attract people in my life, my inner circle that I’ve truly valued and respected. People who trusted me with their emerging true selves.

This past weekend gave me many, many opportunities to show up and by doing so for God, myself and others I am blessed with nearly indescribable gifts. Gifts of trust, honesty, creativity, empathy, joyful tears, gratitude, connection and the greatest of all things, love. Sometimes I forget that today, I do show up. Writing this blog reminds me that while I am human, I also am expanding the Divine in me.

“There is an Indian proverb that says that everyone is a house with four rooms, a physical, a mental, an emotional and a spiritual. Most of us tend to live in one room most of the time but unless we go  into every room every day, even if only to keep it aired, we are not a complete person.” — Rumer Godden

In which room do you spend most of your time?

It’s silly, but I’m kind of afraid of my answer to this question. I’m sitting here thinking and thinking about it, which tells me it’s the mental for me. Why am I afraid of that? I’m in my head quite a bit these days, but I don’t live there like I used to. Or maybe I should say (write?) that my head is a safer room for me these days than it used to be. It’s often said in the (12 step) rooms that an addict or alcoholic alone is in bad company, or  the inside of an addict or alcoholic’s head is a bad neighborhood to wander alone. Although that speaks more to isolating when you are in a bad space. As I wrote in my blog post this past Tuesday “The Best Laid Plans”, I’ve gotten pretty good at self-soothing or taking care to reach out when I’m in a bad space.

When I wake up every morning I thank my Higher Power, whom I choose to call God, for another day clean and sober. Then I spend time praying, meditating or reading daily recovery readings. This is my spiritual room. To be honest there are days when I barely air it out, but I go into it nonetheless.

I view my emotional nature as a blessing now. That was not always the case as I was trained and taught from an early age not to be. But today I honor my emotions when they come up by first allowing them their space inside me, then I acknowledge my emotions and allow them to pass. I rarely hang onto or wallow in them. This has been a valuable learned tool in my emotional sobriety.

My physical room has been looking and feeling pretty good as of late. I am making healthier choices with my food and drink lots of water throughout the day and night. My Yoga and walking are improving with hiking just on the horizon. So my physical room is barely aired maybe 1 or 2 days a week but I hit it up on the regular.

I believe I am a balanced person progressing towards completion… Yeah, I like the sound and feel of that.

How about you and your rooms?